Vancity Vibes | DAY 7: Richmond Biking Feat. Snowy Village + The Great Scrape

More McD's muffins awaited me for breakfast the next morning. Along with my must-have iced coffee was a lightly charred Fruit & Fibre Muffin topped with oats.

​I would also, for the first time since the commencement of the trip (!), undertake a pilates session. Engaging in the act of mobility was truly nurturing for the soul.

Originally purchased as a birthday present, I was urged to sample the ever-pricey Russian Walnut Cookies from La Patisserie. Within its paper container were a total of eight mounds, leading each to assume a unit price of $0.999 plus tax. The cookies had been heavily praised for its crunchy properties, piquing a great deal of interest in me.

​A mild sense of aversion arose from my first bite into the powdered sugar-topped scoop: albeit crunchy with fine chunks of walnut, the cookie was dry and reeked heavily of milk powder. Beyond this synthetic addition, there were few flavour notes to be perceived. Buttery it was not, nor particularly fragrant. While I appreciated the uniform golden hue, the costly half-orb was not for me.

​I would, instead, be taking back these observations to formulate my own variation when time warrants - ideally a version with less milk powder, more nuttiness, and more butteriness.

​The previous day's round of errands had also included pre-ordering of a Mango Cream Cake.

Mango and fresh cream were the main constituents of the cake, as with typical Chinese-style birthday cakes. 

​The sponge was exceptionally airy and light, likely the result of cake flour, oil, and gentle mixing for the formation of uniform, fine air bubbles); that said, it was sweeter than preferred, which may be, in part, owed to meringue for structure. Sandwiched between these two sponge layers - each measuring roughly one inch in thickness - was a delicate whipped cream and vibrant pieces of mango. Fresh whipped cream, especially when unstabilized, is susceptible to dissolution (read: melty) and lacks dimension. It retains a greasy mouthfeel without much contribution to complexity and depth.

​The mango chunks tasted a bit artificial, or soft as if having been soaked in sugar syrup.

Carefully arranged atop were more mango slices. These proved extremely soft and sugary, again as if they had been submerged in syrup for far too long.

​With hair styled and makeup done, it seemed a waste to spend the remainder of the day indoors. Now equipped with the ability to bike, I opted to undertake a mini mission to Superstore for returns. Pleasant it was to witness a bike-friendly route the entire way.
Though the city had not gone as far as updating intersections with dedicated bike signals, I silently expressed appreciation towards bike lanes separated from live traffic with boulevard/streetscaping/planters. An MUP would run parallel to the bike lane, separated by a grassy boulevard once again and with clear signage to delineate pedestrians from cyclists.

I managed to find a plethora of bike racks outside Superstore and proceeded with my mission as planned.

​Halfway to Snowy Village, I made the impromptu decision to extend the cycling journey. Little had I know that, upon crossing No. 3 Road, all bike infrastructure would vanish. Older streets such as Alexandra had not been retrofitted for active modes of transportation. While sidewalk bays were wider than standard, the intrusion of shrubbery posed safety hazards when interacting with oncoming pedestrians, traffic poles, and parking metres. Another indication of their earlier construction period was appearance: when aggregate-topped bays were the standard instead of smooth, double-edged surfaces.

Resorting to combat the lack of infrastructure available, I opted to ride local while carefully watching for sudden movements of parked cars. Bike racks were found outside Snowy Village, though none were vacant at my time of visit. I took to a nearby tree for managing its safety. 

Gone were the days where Snowy Village had been a bustling dessert cafe, brimming with young customers and a waitlist out the door. The Korean owner and team of taiyaki-crafting staff had vanished; I strode in to find the internal quarters reeking of grease and adopting a takeout-only format. A series of tables had been positioned by the entrace to obstruct further entry into the space. Laminated menus and a sticky Clover machine rested atop. Chinese music blared from above.
A seemingly disinterested member of staff lazily drew close to take my order. I expected to be turned away for my order of a single Croissant Taiyaki with Custard, but the man fires up the grill anyway. The act was in utter conflict with the concept of energy efficiency.

​I patiently take to the planters outside in wait of my order, for these is no seating. A couple had taken hostage of a different planter for the same purpose. In this time, I observe the plaza to have become predominantly Chinese - Mainland to be specific - as it fills with the smell of cigarettes, brusque Mandarin, and the sight of spitting directly outside a store entrance.

​My Custard Croissant Taiyaki didn't taste vaguely as good as before. Although equally hot (and scalding!), crunchy sugar crystals had been omitted from the surface, and flakiness from its batter. The custard filling was runny, boasting neither eggy goodness nor sweet vanilla, but at least it wasn't tacky or overcooked.

Brushing away the crumbs that had descended onto my hair, I felt raindrops on my hand and decided to head back.

No. 3 Road was witnessed to have a paved bike lane separated from live traffic - splendid. Google Maps guided me in the direction of Aberdeen, where I couldn't resist making one last stop before continuing. Parking the bike under the SkyTrain guideway ensured dryness of my seat. In I went for indoor plumbing facilities and coffee filters from Oomomo.

​When I returned outside, the presence of precipitation had become more prominent. I grew anxious, for rainfall results in loss of traction. My priority was to make it home as soon as possible.

​Traversing from Cambie to River Road, my worries only heightened. Staggered horizontal poles had been installed at street-trail junctions, likely to obstruct vehicles from drunkenly taking to the path. I succeeded in swerving about one of them, but failed to weave around the second, especially given the weightiness of the bike. The handlebars hooked about the pole, and I was sent flying into the asphalt.

​It was a far worse outcome than I had expected. Breaking my fall were both wrists, with the left revealing immediate signs of bruising. The bike frame had slammed into my left tibia, resulting in swelling and tremendous pain. While the left side suffered severe physical strikes, the right side was subject to intense abrasions.

As kneepads had not been worn for this excursion, my right knee endured direct contact with asphalt, which was only worsened by strategically-placed incisions of distressed denim bottoms. The right elbow, despite being protected behind elbow pads, experienced the greatest degree of bleeding. Amidst the fall, the elbow guard had slid out of place. Protection was lost. Instead, I earned a bloody tag on the inside of the guard.

The trauma was entirely physical, yet I could not bring myself to stand up within the first few minutes of the occurrence. A man walking his dog approached me to extend his concerns, and inquired whether I needed assistance to stand up. In my moment of shock, I could not move. Thanking him for his courteousness, I responded that I would be fine and just needed a few minutes to grasp the situation.
"Are you sure?" He repeated for good measure. "I'm going to leave then."
​
Nodding, I thanked him and assured him I could manage. After all, there would be no one that could come to my aid anyway.

​I proceeded to apply a band-aid on my elbow, using the very last one on hand. Eventually, after hobbling over the rest of the gravel trail, I made it back home.

Wrist pains prevailed and tender bruises soon surfaced. I was urged by friends and family to undertake x-ray examinations to confirm whether fractures had been sustained, and postpone baking endeavours until results were received.

That night saw the first instances of pain while washing dishes: rotational movements had become difficult.​